


Bumps, Bears and Broken Things

by fanoftheknight



Series: Bumps, Bears and Broken Things [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Daenerys rules the seven kingdoms, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight
Summary: 'With love, even broken things can be mended.'
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Bumps, Bears and Broken Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811089
Comments: 58
Kudos: 40
Collections: Jorleesi Equinox Exchange -Spring 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ToasTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToasTea/gifts).



“Jorah,” Daenerys sighed as she heard her husband shift and move away from her. She looked up to find him already seated on the side of the bed. He bent down to kiss her before covering her with the warm fur throws. 

Bear Island was cold at any time of year and Jorah knew only too well that his wife was more accustomed to the fairer weather of the south and King’s Landing. Still, it had been Daenerys herself who had insisted they make the long journey north to Jorah’s homeland, bringing along with them Grey Worm, Missandei and the Tarly family.

“I promised Jorelle that I would teach her how to ride a horse,” Jorah replied. “You know what she’s like when she sets her mind to something. We’ll never get a moment’s peace if I don’t do as I’ve promised.”

Although Jorelle was only twelve years old, the young girl was the only family member Jorah had left, albeit a distant relation at that. After the siege of King’s Landing and Daenery’s ascension to the throne, she had reinstated Jorah as Lord of Bear Island which had meant yearly trips back home to check that all was well.

They’d only arrived the night before and yet Jorelle had asked several times already as to when Jorah would make good on his promise to her.

“But it’s so cold out there,” Daenerys persisted, pouting her bottom lip slightly before looking at her husband lasciviously. “It’s much warmer here under the covers…”

Jorah let out a chuckle. Despite having been married for several years, there were certain aspects of their relationship that never got old, the physical side being one of them.

Jorah leaned down, kissing her on the cheek this time. “We’ll have plenty of time for…that, Khaleesi, but we won’t if I don’t go and see Jorelle this morning. I’ll only be a few hours, I promise.”

Sensing that she would not win the battle, Daenerys closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Make sure you come back quickly.”

Jorah smiled at her as he finished dressing. “Since when have I not returned to your side?” He said knowingly.

* * *

“How are you finding Bear Island?” Daenerys asked as Missandei brushed and braided her hair, ready for the day ahead.

“I think Grey Worm finds it too cold, Your Grace,” Missandei answered as she placed another pin in her queen’s hair. “He is too stubborn to say so, though.”

Daenerys chuckled. “It seems that we have both married men too stubborn for their own good - “

Her next words were cut off by the door to her quarters being flung open and several men carrying an unconscious Jorah towards their bed. Daenerys gasped at the sight of his arms dangling limply from his sides and his head lolled to one side.

“Careful!” Samwell Tarly cautioned as he followed quickly behind. “We don’t know if anything is broken yet. The less he’s moved around, the better.”

Daenerys quickly made her way over to her husband’s side, noting the blood staining the pillow on which his head lay. He remained unconscious and unmoving as Sam removed her husband’s tunic and undershirt.

“What happened?” Daenerys asked, turning her attention to one of the men who’d carried Jorah into the room. She recognised him as the head stable boy.

“Ser Jorah was teaching Lady Jorelle how to ride, Your Grace,” the boy began, his voice quivering. “Something spooked Lady Jorelle’s horse…Ser Jorah tried to calm the beast when his own reared up and threw him off.”

“The stable boys tell me that he landed on his back,” Sam began, using his hands to check Jorah for injuries. “It’s clear that he hit his head too which explains why he’s not conscious.”

“Will he be ok, Sam?” Daenerys asked, grateful for Missandei squeezing her hand as her friend stood next to her.

Sam didn’t look up from his work. “We’ll have a better idea when he wakes up.”

“And when will that be?” Daenerys was unable to stop the rising panic she felt. She needed to know how to fix this.

“Argh!”

Sam leaned over Jorah at the sound of his voice. “Ser Jorah, can you hear me?”

The injured man replied with another grunt, raising a hand to his forehead.

“Do you know where you are?” Sam asked, continuing to poke and prod his patient, earning a number of winces from Jorah in response.

“The lemon trees,” Jorah mumbled.

“Not quite,” Sam stuttered nervously. “Try again.”

Jorah groaned once more. Sam picked up on the tell-tale signs that the man in the bed was about to be violently sick. Having already suspected it might happen, Sam made a grab for the metal pail and helped the injured man lean onto his side as he retched violently.

Daenerys gasped as she looked at the myriad of blackened bruising on her husband’s back and sides as he leaned over the side of the bed, breathing heavily as the last of the contents of his stomach left his body.

“He definitely has a concussion,” Sam said, not looking up from his patient as he helped Jorah to lean back against the soft pillows of the bed.

“His back,” Daenerys said, trying to keep the quiver from her voice.

Sam nodded his head, immediately picking up on her concern, and instructed the stable boys to remove Jorah’s boots. Talking a sharp metal implement, he poked the bottom of his patient’s foot, letting out a satisfied hum as he noted the small twitch from Jorah’s limb and the slight grimace on his face.

“Well?” Daenerys barked, her concern for her husband causing her tone to be harsher than she’d intended.

Sam looked up from what he was doing, placing the metal instrument back in the leather pouch he’d brought with him. “We won’t know for certain until he’s fully conscious, but I’m fairly certain that everything is as it should be with his spine.”

Daenerys paced the room, placing her palm on her forehead as she moved back and forth across the dimly-lit room. “What does that mean?”

“It’s too early to be sure, but I’m fairly certain that his back isn’t broken,” Sam replied.

The answer almost knocked Daenerys off her feet and she was grateful for the presence of Missandei at her side who helped her to the large chair by the fire. “You mean he’ll still be able to walk?” Daenerys asked, feeling Missandei’s reassuring presence beside her.

Sam looked at her. “He’ll be heavily bruised and sore, so he won’t be up and moving for a while, but I believe that with time that he’ll be just fine.”

“Peaches,” Jorah mumbled from the bed, his head moving from side to side.

Daenerys was by his side in an instant with Sam making way for her to sit on the bed beside him.

“You brought me peaches, didn’t you?” She said, tucking a few sweaty strands of her husband’s hair from his forehead. “When you’re better we’ll eat all the peaches as we can find, I promise.” 

Daenerys ghosted her fingers over his face as his eyes slowly drifted shut.

“The confusion is part of the head injury, Your Grace,” Sam supplied, gathering his gear and holding it tightly to his chest. “He’ll need waking every two hours until the concussion wears off. If you can’t wake him, or you see any fluids coming from his nose or ears, send for me immediately.”

Daenerys lifted her gaze from the bedside. “Thank you, Sam. It seems we are always in your debt.”

Sam gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I know it’s easy for me to say so, but try not to worry too much. I’ll be back later to check on him.”

Missandei stood quietly at the back of the room. “Should I stay, your Grace?”

Daenerys shook her head as she turned her attention back to her husband. “Perhaps you and Grey Worm should spend the day exploring the island.”

Missandei nodded her head and made her way to the door. “Ser Jorah is both strong and stubborn, Your Grace. I believe he will be fine.”

“Thank you,” Daenerys said, screwing her eyes shut and hiding her face from her handmaiden, willing the tears not to fall.


	2. Chapter 2

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed as she sat at Jorah’s bedside, looking for any sign that his concussion was wearing off. Daenerys had done as instructed and woke him every two hours. She was disappointed when he only mumbled a few disjointed words before closing his eyes once more.

As she sat holding Jorah’s hand, the silence in the room was disturbed by a soft knocking at the door.

“Come in,” Daenerys said, feeling beyond weary.

Missandei stood in the doorway, holding a steaming bowl of what could only have been food, judging by the strong aroma of herbs and meat.

“I thought you might be hungry, Your Grace,” her handmaiden said as she entered the room and placed the bowl down, handing her queen a spoon.

Daenerys looked at her friend gratefully, realising as she tucked into the hot broth that it had been many hours since she’d last eaten. She could feel it begin to warm her from the inside.

“Has there been any change?” Missandei asked as Daenerys continued to eat, her eyes always darting back to the man lying in the bed.

Daenerys shook her head. “I’ve been waking him every few hours.”

“I will sit with him while you get some fresh air,” Missandei suggested, adding “Ser Jorah would not be happy to find you have made yourself ill,” before her queen could object.

After several moments of debating the decision, Daenerys gave a weary nod of the head, placing a kiss on her husband’s cheek and whispering something in his ear.

While Daenerys took a few moments to clear her thoughts, Missandei began humming a tune she’d learned as a child as the minutes ticked by, hoping that her queen was taking in some of the fresh sea air that surrounded Bear Island to rejuvenate herself after a long vigil at her husband’s bedside.

Ser Jorah’s gruff voice jolted Missandei from her thoughts.

“I’m going to paint it red,” he mumbled, his hand reaching out for something unseen.

Missandei caught it and placed it back down on the bed. “What will you paint red, Ser?” She asked, straightening the furs covering him. He would no doubt be mortified for Missandei to see him in such a state of undress.

“The door,” Jorah finally answered. “She wants a house with a red door…and lemon trees.”

“The queen?” Missandei asked, settling back into the chair beside the bed.

Jorah’s eyes flickered open momentarily. “I’d do it,” he whispered. “I’d do it all for her.”

Having known Ser Jorah for many years, Missandei had no doubt that he would travel to hell and back for his queen if she asked him to. His devotion to the woman he loved showed no bounds and Missandei was under no illusions that his devotion and desire to protect extended to anyone the queen considered family.

Although he was notoriously reluctant to accept the help or care of others, Ser Jorah was so often a man who gave everything and asked for nothing in return. It was clear to Missandei that it would take some time for Ser Jorah to recover from his injuries and his slow recuperation after the Long Night proved that he would be a difficult and stubborn patient. Her queen would need the support of those around her for, as disparate as their backgrounds and histories were, the queen’s closest advisors had also become a family of sorts. Whether he believed it or not, Ser Jorah was an integral part of their family dynamic and deserved to receive some of the care and support that he so often provided to others.

* * *

“How has he been?” Samwell Tarly asked as Daenerys stood aside to let the maester into the room. 

“No change,” she replied, her voice devoid of emotion as she followed Sam to her husband’s bedside.

“You’ve been waking him every few hours?” Sam asked, peering over to the bed at his patient.

“He doesn’t seem to know where he is,” Daenerys said, the worry clear in her tone.

Sam didn’t seem overly concerned. “It’ll pass. I suppose we can thank the gods for small mercies that he’s not trying to get out of his sickbed already.”

The light-hearted comment seemed to fall on deaf ears. Blushing, Sam focused instead on his patient as he shook his shoulder.

“Ser Jorah, can you open your eyes?” Sam asked.

It earned a growl from the injured man.

“Get your hands off me, whore,” Jorah grumbled, his eyes still closed.

Sam had expected Jorah to call him a number of things, but not…that.

“I just need to check you over, Ser Jorah. If you just lie still, I’ll be done in no time.”

Sam felt his hand being roughly shoved away.

“Tyrion put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jorah said, his open eyes glassy and unfocused. “That little shit. Why would I need the touch of a whore when I’m marrying the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms?”

Despite her husband’s predicament, it made Daenerys smile to know that Jorah was and always had been utterly devoted to her.

She made her way back over to Jorah’s side, tucking a strand of hair off of his forehead. “But you do need the touch of a maester, Ser. Let him do what he needs to.”

Daenerys smiled as her husband frowned in confusion. “I’ve never touched a whore in my life.”

She placed a kiss on Jorah’s cheek as she continued to distract him while Sam did what he needed to. “I’m glad to hear that, Ser.”

“I love Daenerys Targaryen. I always have and I always will.”

She felt the errant tear roll down her face as she whispered in his ear, “And she loves you too. Always.”

* * *

It had been as restless a night as Daenerys could remember. She had instructed the guards outside her door to knock every two hours in case she fell asleep. Each time the knock roused her, she shook her husband’s shoulder to check on him and been disappointed when his eyes flickered open and he mumbled something unintelligible before drifting back into unconsciousness once more.

She had been dozing when she felt Jorah fidget beside her. She woke instantly.

“Jorah?” She said softly, turning to her side to get a better look at him.

His eyes were glazed and unfocused as he turned his head in her direction. “Daenerys?” He groaned, running a hand over his face.

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face at her relief for the man she loved. He had been disorientated and confused since being brought to their quarters the morning before.

Daenerys ran a hand down the side of his face, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m here,” she crooned. “You’re going to be alright.”

Jorah closed his eyes and let out a pained breath. “What happened?”

Worry gnawed at Daenerys at her husband’s question, she would ask Sam later whether it was normal.

“You were thrown from your horse. You hit your head, but Sam says you’ll be fine with some rest.”

She emphasised the final word, making it clear that she would see to her husband remaining on bed rest until Sam deemed him fit enough to leave it.

“Hmmm,” Jorah replied sleepily, his eyes drifting shut once more. “I will be fine in the morning.”

Daenerys felt her heart thud in her chest at his response. “Jorah, you’ve slept all day. It’s morning already.”

Although cold, the sun had risen over Bear Island several hours ago and light filtered into the large room. It was light enough to clearly see the far end of the room and the door that led to the main part of the castle. Why would Jorah think it was night?

Jorah opened his eyes, a frown forming on his handsome features. His eyes were still glazed and unfocused. “Then why is it so dark that I can’t see you?”

Daenerys shouted to the guards outside the door, commanding them to send for Samwell Tarly to come immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

Daenerys was barely able to contain her nerves as she watched Sam attend to her husband. It was becoming painfully obvious that something was seriously wrong with Jorah as Sam frowned several times.

She watched the young maester bring a cup to Jorah’s lips, encouraging him to take a long draught before pushing him gently back towards the bed.

“Sam?” She asked, fear gripping her as the maester wiped his hands on the cloth he was holding before making his way over to her.

He kept his voice low as he spoke to her. “Your Grace - “

She cut him off quickly. “Please, Sam. Just tell me.”

He nodded his head, nerves still evident in his posture as he stood before his queen. “He can’t see anything,” he whispered.

“At all?” She asked, her hand shooting to her mouth in shock.

Sam shook his head. “It’s likely from the head injury.”

“Is it permanent?” Daenerys asked, feeling the breath leave her body in a rush.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t answer that, Your Grace.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Make sure he rests as much as possible,” he suggested, packing bottles back into his satchel. “His spine is heavily bruised and he’ll be in a lot of pain when the concussion begins to wear off. I’ve wrapped him in some healing herbs that should help to take the swelling down around his spinal cord.”

“Can’t you give him milk of the poppy?”

Sam shook his head. “It’s too dangerous with his head injury. I’ve used the last of the healing herbs that I brought with me and they’ll wear off before the day is out. We’ll need to send for more from the mainland.”

Although Bear Island was beautiful, it lacked many of the plants and herbs that a maester would use to help heal his patients.

“Send ravens to every house within reach from here,” Daenerys commanded. “I want you to find stocks of whatever you need as soon as possible. I will not have my husband suffer.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Sam said nervously, backing out of the room quickly.

* * *

Daenerys had been content to watch over her husband during the day, repeating the same words she’d spoken to him since he’d woke this morning. Each time he roused, he would ask what had happened before telling her that he would be fine in the morning.

Sam had reassured her that his confusion and inability to remember what had happened were normal with the type of head injury he’d sustained. She was thankful that her husband was still less than coherent, knowing that he would be fully aware of the pain and discomfort of his injuries were he fully cognisant of his surroundings.

She took the washcloth and dipped it into the bowl of warm water she’d brought to his bedside, turning down the thick furs that covered the man she loved. Bear Island was cold at this time of year and so Daenerys had instructed her guards to keep the fire stoked at all times. Dressed in nothing but his breeches and a thin undershirt, Jorah would no doubt feel the cold without the additional warmth of the furs and the fire.

The touch of the washcloth seemed to bring Jorah back to awareness as he let out a deep breath, his eyes flickering open yet remaining glassy and unseeing.

“Daenerys?’ He croaked, reaching out blindly for her.

She caught his hand and kissed his fingers. “I’m here,” she said before kissing his hand and placing it back on the bed.

She continued to wash his face before pulling the furs down slightly and washing his neck and shoulders.

“I have to meet Jorelle at the stables in the morning,” Jorah said, his voice hoarse from disuse. “I promised her that I’d teach her to ride.”

Daenerys brought the washcloth to her lips, trying to stifle the sob. It had been the reason that Jorah had been injured in the first place. She felt her anger rising as she realised that Jorah’s insistence on pleasing everyone had landed him in his current predicament. He had never been a man who found it easy to say no, especially to children, and fate had responded cruelly to his gentle nature in the worst of ways.

Not wanting to distress him in his current disorientated state and heeding Sam’s instructions to keep Jorah calm and quiet, Daenerys chose her words carefully. “It’s still dark outside,” she lied, casting her eyes toward the light piercing through the window of the room. “Let us go back to sleep until it is time to rise for the day.”

Jorah seemed to consider her words for several moments before humming his agreement and closing his eyes once more.

* * *

Sam had been correct that the healing herbs he’d applied to Jorah’s spine would not last the day and that night was one of the most difficult and distressing ones Daenerys had ever experienced. Though still not fully aware of his surroundings, Jorah had become increasingly restless as the night wore on and the relief from the herbal remedies began to wear off.

He called out to her several times and she could tell he was in agony by the way he shifted and fisted the furs that covered his damaged body. Unable to witness his distress any longer, Daenerys sent for Missandei and Sam to attend to her immediately.

“Have the ravens returned?” Daenerys asked, pushing a damp lock of Jorah’s hair from his forehead.

“They have, Your Grace,” Missandei replied, her hands clasped in front of her body as her eyes remained on the floor. She knew the queen would not like her answer.

“And?”

Sam winced at the bluntness of her tone, stepping forward to answer her.

“Several houses replied saying that they do not have what we need,” Sam stuttered nervously.

Daenerys did not miss the unspoken words.

“Several,” she repeated. “Not all. Where must we travel to find what we need?”

Sam gulped several times, not wishing to anger his queen any further. Her quick temper was well known and often only soothed by the man laying prostrate in the bed behind her.

“Deepwood Motte,” Sam replied.

Daenerys gave a stiff nod of her head. “Then we will travel there immediately.”

Sam cast a worried glance at the woman next to him.

Missandei took a step closer to Daenerys, her head still bowed in deference.

“Deepwood Motte reports that they have the goods we require but will not supply them until their terms are met.”

Sam braced himself for the tirade he was sure would come.

“They are refusing an order sent directly from their queen?” Daenerys questioned, shooting to her feet.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Missandei replied. “It would appear that they are unhappy with current trade sanctions in place on the mainland.”

“And they have chosen now to voice their displeasure?” 

Missandei tried to placate her furious queen. “We can send an armoured response and try to reason with them - “

“That would take too long,” Daenerys cut her off as she paced the room. “Traveling by sea will take days.” She cast a worried glance at Jorah who continued to wince and shift in the bed. “I will travel there with Drogon. I will take what I need, by force if necessary.”

Missandei took another step forward, halting when Daenerys shot her a fierce look. “Your Grace, that would be most unwise. It could be a trap. You should not go unprotected.”

“My decision is final. I will leave for Deepwood Motte within the hour.” Her tone making it clear that she would not be swayed. “Leave us,” she commanded, turning her attention back to her husband. “I will meet you at the shore in a few moments. Ask Grey Worm to prepare my things.”

Hearing the door close, Daenerys softly ran the backs of her fingers down Jorah’s cheek. His eyes fluttered open at her touch.

“Daenerys?” He asked, reaching out blindly to her.

Resting her forehead against his, she answered him. “I’m here.”

She felt his hands grasp her tightly. “I can’t see you.”

She bit back another sob. “I know.” She kissed his forehead and then each of his hands as she made to move away from him, her will almost breaking as he reached out for her with his hands. “I must leave for a short time, but I promise you that I will return.”

Daenerys watched the man she loved grit his teeth against another fresh wave of pain. “It hurts,” he gasped, his legs twitching beneath the thick furs covering him.

She knew just how much it would cost Jorah to admit such a thing. He’d been hacked and stabbed repeatedly during the Battle of Winterfell and despite nearly dying, he had tried to tell everyone around him that he had no need to be confined to a sickbed to recover. The wounds he took in her service would have killed lesser men and yet he treated them as if they were no more than a troublesome scratch.

“The pain,” Jorah repeated, his unseeing eyes opening as his hands reached out for her. “Sam,” he gasped, “I need….” His words trailed off as another sharp pang of pain hit him.

She took his hands, holding them between her own and kissed his knuckles. “We cannot,” she said, clearing her throat against the tears threatening to choke her. “That is why I must leave. I will return with something to help you.”

“Daenerys, please,” he begged her.

She pulled away from him sharply knowing that if she stayed for a moment longer that she would never leave his side. “Missandei will stay with you. She will not leave you.” She answered him, unsure how much of their conversation he would remember the next time he woke.

“Remember that I love you,” she said, watching his eyes flutter closed and unconsciousness claimed him once more. “There has never been anyone else. Only you.”

If he remembers anything, she prayed, let it be that.


	4. Chapter 4

“Your Grace, this course of action is most unwise,” Missandei said, watching Grey Worm hand Daenerys her Valaryian steel sword before marching her way over to Drogon.

“They have left me with no choice,” Daenerys replied. “I will not have Jorah suffer just because some fat old man has decided his taxes are too high.”

The look on Daenerys’ face dared her advisors to contradict her. All eyes remained firmly on the ground.

“It may be a trap,” Missandei said, trying once more to reason with her.

Daenerys climbed upon Drogon’s back, the dragon bending his head to the ground to allow his mother the purchase she needed to scale his humungous figure.

“I am well prepared should they make an attempt on my life.”

Once recovered from the grievous injuries he’d sustained at the Battle of Winterfell, Daenerys had commanded Jorah to teach her how to wield a sword. She had come so close to losing him as he threw himself on blade after blade to defend her from the undead that night. She had been powerless to do anything but watch as more of his precious blood spilled at her feet with each new blow that he took for her.

Jorah had been reluctant at first, but Daenerys had proved to be an adept fighter and a model student, never once shying away from giving her all in their sparring during their training sessions.

The sword strapped to her side was much smaller than Heartsbane, but it fit well with Daenerys’ slight frame and stature. Once forged, she named her weapon Dragon’s Devotion after her children and the one man who loved her more selflessly than anyone.

Never once had Jorah wavered in his devotion to her. Despite every odd being stacked against him, he had never once let her down or given anything less than his best in his service to her.

For so long, it had been Jorah who fought for her and her cause and she knew without a doubt that the time had come for her to repay some of the huge debt that she owed him. Love and devotion were a two-way street and one that Daenerys would gladly travel for the man who meant so much to her.

“I will return as soon as I can,” Daenerys informed her advisors. “Care for and protect Jorah as you would your queen.”

Grey Worm and Missandei nodded their agreement, even though there was no need for their queen to ask it of them. Their desire to protect the injured knight was not born of a command from their leader but from the bonds of familiarity and friendship that the four of them had shared throughout their many years together.

“If I…” Daenerys trailed off, tears threatening to spill from her eyes once more. “If I fail…If I do not return…Protect Ser Jorah from anyone who means him harm. If I die…you must protect Ser Jorah…even from himself.” Daenerys patted Drogon’s flank as the huge beast moved in preparation to take to the skies. “Tell him….tell him that I did it for love…That I did it for him.”

* * *

Missandei lit more incense and hovered around the bed of the injured man, wishing for all the word that she could help end his suffering as he twitched and moaned as another spasm shook his damaged body.

The incense would have little effect in alleviating his discomfort, but Missandei knew that she couldn’t just sit and watch such a brave man fight against the pain that ravaged his body. Sam had advised them that giving Jorah milk of the poppy would be too dangerous and that they ran the risk of him never waking from the deep slumber that it would put him in.

Daenerys had left in search of the one thing that would help the injured knight and Missandei hoped that her queen would return before nightfall. Several times, Jorah’s eyes had fluttered open and he’d reached out his hands, searching for his wife and calling her name, begging for her to help him.

Sam had given her sympathetic looks when he returned every few hours to check on his patient, his face becoming grimmer each time as the pain and discomfort took its toll on Jorah’s weary body. The injured knight was stuck in a vicious cycle of needing to rest in order to recover and not being able to due to the pain his injuries caused. The sweat that beaded on the old knight’s head was a testament to the physical strain his body was under.

“Daenerys?”

Jorah’s gravelly voice took Missandei by surprise. Making herself comfortable on the chair by his bed, she took the knight’s hand in her own.

“She will be back shortly, Ser,” Missandei replied, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb in an effort to soothe him.

She watched as Jorah turned his head toward the sound of her voice, his unseeing eyes appearing to look straight through her.

“Missandei?” He croaked.

They were fortunate until now that Jorah had been too dazed to realise that his wife had left his side but as the last few hours passed, Jorah seemed to be coming back to awareness with alarming speed.

Missandei squeezed his hand. “I am here, Ser.”

Her heart broke at the look on his face. “She’s left, hasn’t she?” He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She’s gone.”

“She will return, Ser,” Missandei replied, feeling tears stinging her eyes. “I promise you that she will return soon.” Missandei could only hope that her words were true. To lose the woman he loved would devastate Jorah, he could not live in a world without his queen.

A tear rolled down Jorah’s weathered cheek, catching in his beard as he shook his head. “She should not. I am no use to her now….I am broken. I cannot protect her. You should all leave….leave and never look back.”

Missandei stroked her friend’s cheek, wiping away the tears that rolled down his face.

“We will never leave you, Ser Jorah,” she told him, her voice full of conviction. “We will never abandon you. Broken or not, we are family and we will never leave you. We need you, Ser. There will never be a day when we don’t.”

Jorah fisted the furs covering him. “I have nothing to offer her…I have nothing to offer any of you. Daenerys should not be chained to a man who can neither see nor move. She deserves more than a broken old man. You all do.”

“Do you truly believe, after everything that we have been through, that you mean so little to the people who care about you?” Missandei retorted, unable to keep the frustration at his obstinance from her tone.

She loved this man for the dear friend and honourable knight that he was and she had no doubt that he was internalising his anger at his own apparent helplessness. A warrior and yet a gentle man, Jorah had always been a contradiction of opposing opposites. His capacity to forgive, love and care for those around him constantly warring with his inner hatred of himself and the crimes of his past. Rather than subject those around him to his warring emotions, he would internalise them and they would always find a willing and easy target in the man himself.

Jorah bit back a growl as another wave of pain hit him, shooting from his lower back to the tips of his toes. “You should go,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “Please….leave me alone.”

Missandei was resolute in her position. She would not allow Jorah to push her away merely because he wanted to brood and torment himself in silence.

“I will not, Ser - “

“Get out!”

She had hardly ever heard Jorah raise his voice in the entire time she had known him. His bellowing words were loud enough for Grey Worm to enter the room at alarming speed. Missandei looked at her husband and gave him a sad smile.

Grey Worm didn’t look convinced. “I heard shouting.”

“Take her with you, Grey Worm,” Jorah commanded from his bed. “Leave me be. That’s an order.

As Lord Commander of the Targaryen armies, Jorah outranked Grey Worm in every way possible and yet there was one person’s words who the Unsullied soldier would follow, even above that of his direct superior - that of his queen.

“Queen Daenerys says we cannot. Unsullied do not ignore the command of their queen. Jorah the Andal know this.”

Jorah’s blank eyes moved in the direction of the voice of his subordinate. 

“She isn’t here and neither should you be. You should be protecting your queen.”

“I am,” the Unsullied soldier replied. “Grey Worm is protecting what is precious to the queen.”

Jorah let out a tired sigh, his eyes closing in defeat.

“I am not precious. I am broken.”

Missandei took Jorah’s hand in her own, glancing briefly at Grey Worm before returning her attention to the man in the bed. “Even broken things can be fixed, Ser. You should know better than anyone, love heals us all.”

* * *

Daenerys returned just as nightfall blanketed Bear Island. Drogon landed gracefully, dipping his head to allow his mother to climb off. She rubbed his snout lovingly and spoke softly to him before he flew back up into the hills that he had made his home each time his mother visited Bear Island.

Perhaps in some small way, Drogon understood the urgency of the situation. He flew his mother to the mainland of Westeros quickly and without hesitation, staying upon the shore near Deepwood Motte, glaring menacingly at the men who dared to cross their queen.

Daenerys was thankful that her threats and the sight of Drogon alone had been enough for the Lord of Deepwood Motte to capitulate. Not wishing to waste any time, Daenerys thrust a scroll in the old man’s face and demanded he fulfil her request with haste. 

The foolish old man was mistaken if he thought she was done with him. Daenerys would deal with his insolence and in time he would feel the full force of her wrath.

Right now, she had more important things to attend to.

Daenerys made her way quickly into the keep, paying no attention to the concerned looks of the small folk who worked inside the small castle. Her mind was centred on one thing - returning to her husband’s bedside.

Her heart sank when she heard his pained moans and it would do Jorah no good to see her upset at his predicament. Daenerys took a number of deep breaths, steeling her courage before entering the room. Her eyes fell upon Missandei and Sam, both of whom were talking quietly in the corner a short distance away from the hearth where Grey Worm was adding several logs into the flames. All eyes landed on Daenerys as she shut the door and made her way to her husband’s bedside.

She stifled a sob as she ran a hand down his weathered face, his eyes screwed shut in pain as he took quick, shallow breaths. Even one second of pain was a moment too much as far as Daenerys was concerned and she was well aware that he had been suffering for hours.

The touch of her hand caused his eyes to flutter open.

“Daenerys?”

Deprived of his sight, she was surprised he knew it was her.

She kissed his forehead before taking one of his hands in both of hers.

“I am here.”

He gasped in pain. “Please…make it - “

Freeing one of her hands, she placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

“Shhhh. Sam will help you.”

She glared at the young maester as he searched through the bag of items she’d brought with her on her return to the island. 

Sam organised the herbs and ingredients and began mixing and crushing several of them in a clay bowl.

“Please give me a few moments, Your Grace,” Sam stuttered, keeping his eyes on the bowl.

Daenerys gave a tight nod of the head. “Work as quickly as you can,” she commanded, her tone blunt, before softening. “Please.”

“Daenerys, you should go,” Jorah said through gritted teeth.

She turned her attention back to her husband. “Go where?”

“Back to King’s Landing,” Jorah replied, his body flinching once more.

“Not until you are fit enough to travel, Ser,” her tone slightly chiding.

Jorah shook his head. “Go,” he gasped as another twinge tore at his nerve endings. “Leave me here.”

“I will not,” she replied quickly.

“Your place is in King’s Landing. Threats to your throne grow with each day that passes - “

“My place is here, by your side,” she said, silencing any further protests from him by bending to touch her forehead to his, their noses touching as she placed a soft kiss on his lips. “My place will always be by your side, just as yours is by mine. Only death can separate us.”

Sam stood awkwardly behind his queen, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment but aware of the amount of pain the knight was in.

“Your Grace,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “The remedy is ready.”

Daenerys nodded her head and moved aside. “Sam will tend to you now, but I will not leave you, Ser. I promise.”

Missandei watched her queen take several steps back to allow Sam to work while still hovering as closely to him as she could. Missandei handed Daenerys a goblet of water, which her queen took gratefully, gulping the cool water down in only a few quick mouthfuls.

“Your Grace, are you ok?” Missandei asked, her hands clasped in front of her as she stood to the side of her queen in an act of deference and respect.

Daenerys realised that she must still have soot on her face and clothes. She picked up on the unspoken question in Missandei’s tone.

“Nothing that a good night’s sleep by my husband’s side won’t fix,” Daenerys replied, plastering a fake smile on her features. “Thank you for staying with him. Your kindness will not go unrewarded.”

Keeping her eyes on Sam as she watched him work, Missandei replied. “It is no burden to care for a friend, Your Grace. Ser Jorah has always been most kind to me. What are we if we do not care for our family?”

Daenerys remained silent for a number of moments, considering her friend’s words.

“Why is Grey Worm not guarding the door?”

Missandei shuffled nervously, unsure of how to respond to her queen’s question.

“Ser Jorah became quite distressed in your absence.”

“Did he hurt you?” Daenerys asked, suddenly afraid that Jorah had hit out at Missandei in his confused state. Nightmares had haunted his dreams for as long as she had known him, sometimes they were bad enough for him to reach out for the unseen ghouls that haunted his sleep.

“Only my feelings,” Missandei replied. “He raised his voice and told me to leave,” she added at Daenerys’ puzzled look. “I refused, of course. Family do not abandon one another. Ser Jorah was the one to show me that.”

“Just as we would not leave if the tables were turned and you or Grey Worm were the ones in need.”

“Here we stand,” Missandei said, dipping her head to hide her smile.

The meaning was not lost on Daenerys as she too repeated the words of House Mormont.

Several minutes later, Sam left his patient’s side.

“I’ve done as much as I can for now, Your Grace,” he said, wiping his hands on a square of cloth. “I’ve bound his back in the healing herbs and I’ll need to reapply them twice a day. It’ll help bring down the swelling on his spinal cord.”

“What about the pain?” Daenerys asked. “Can’t you give him something for that?”

“Most of the pain is coming from his spinal cord. His nerve endings and muscles are reacting to that. To Ser Jorah, it must feel like someone is jabbing red hot pokers into him. The herbs I’ve applied will reduce the swelling and help with the pain.”

“And what about his sight?” Daenerys asked, almost afraid to hear Sam’s answer. Ser Jorah would not react well if the loss of his sight was permanent.

Sam frowned. “It is difficult to say for certain, Your Grace. If Ser Jorah is able to rest peacefully as the swelling to his spine reduces it may make a difference.”

“But there is a chance it will not?”

“I wish I could be more specific, Your Grace. The truth is that I honestly don’t know. As difficult as it may be to accept, Ser Jorah’s sight may never return.”

“Then we must pray that is not so,” Daenerys replied, returning to her husband’s side once more. “Thank you for everything you have done. Please leave us. I wish to be alone with my husband.”

Once the room was empty, Daenerys removed her cloak and overcoat before slipping under the furs to rest her head on her husband’s chest. He appeared to be resting peacefully after Sam’s ministrations, his breathing deep and rhythmic as the lines on his face smoothed out and his body relaxed.

Daenerys suddenly found herself feeling beyond weary as her eyes drifted shut.


	5. Chapter 5

Daenerys was woken the next morning by a soft knocking at the door.

“One moment please,” she called out, climbing out of bed and pulling a cloak around her shoulders to protect her from the chill in the air. With no one to tend to it, the fire had dwindled down to a few smoking embers in the hearth.

Daenerys opened the door to find Sam and Missandei standing on the other side.

“I’ve come to tend to Jorah,” Sam said, making his way into the room.

“And I have come to tend to you, Your Grace,” Missandei added. “Come, let me braid your hair and attend to you.”

Daenerys cast a look back to her husband as Sam reached his bedside.

“I’ll be a while, Your Grace, Sam said, clearly he and Missandei had hatched this plan together.

Realising that she was outnumbered by her well intentioned subjects, Daenerys acquiesced and followed Missandei from the room as Sam went about his twice-daily routine of tending to Ser Jorah.

“Sam?”

The young maester looked up from his work and into the eyes of the injured knight, eyes that still saw nothing but darkness.

“Aye, it’s me, Ser Jorah,” Sam replied, “I just need to change your bindings and check you over,” he said, untying the bandages. “At least you recognised me this time,” he added with a chuckle.

Jorah furrowed his brow in confusion.

“You mistook me for a whore last time,” Sam added.

It earned a grunt from the older man. “If you were a whore I’d ask for my money back.”

Sam let the insult wash over him. “I suppose it’s a good job I’m a maester then, isn’t it?” He retorted, helping Jorah roll onto his side so he could inspect the bruising. “How is the pain?”

Jorah grunted and tensed as Sam prodded at his lower back, giving the younger man the answer he needed.

Helping the knight to roll on to his back once more, Sam lifted the injured man’s left foot. “Push as hard as you can against my hand,” he instructed, giving a satisfied nod when Jorah’s trembling leg gave some resistance. Sam hummed and nodded to himself, repeating the movements with the other leg.

“A few more days and we’ll get you up and walking around the room,” Sam said, preparing another mixture of herbs to apply to his patient.

“Don’t bother.”

Jorah’s voice was barely a whisper, but it spoke volumes as to the man’s current dark mood.

Sam said nothing as he brought the bindings back over to his patient.

“You’re a hard-headed, obstinate, bad-tempered pain in the arse, but self-pity is not a good look on you, Ser Jorah.”

“What would you know?” Jorah growled as Sam tightened the bindings around his torso, earning a wince from the older man.

“A lot more than you, apparently,” Sam shot back.

“I’m a knight, all I know how to do is fight,” Jorah said, defeat evident in his tone. “I cannot see and I’ll be lucky if I can barely walk unaided. What use am I to anyone? How can I fight if I cannot even protect myself?”

“You can fight this,” Sam urged his friend, frustrated at the knight’s morose state. “Right now you’re choosing to feel sorry for yourself. The man I gifted Heartsbane to never felt sorry for himself.”

“Maybe I’m not that man anymore,” Jorah replied quietly.

“That’s bollocks and you know it,” Sam shot back, his tone blunt.

It earned a huff from his patient. “Your bedside manner is sadly lacking, Sam.”

“I’m your maester, not your wife. You want tea and sympathy, ask her.”

The terseness of the comment took Jorah by surprise.

“I thought we were friends, Sam,” Jorah replied, still smarting from the remark.

Collecting his belongings, Sam gave the old knight one final glance before heading to the door.

“We are,” Sam replied sadly. “Which is why you’ll thank me for this tomorrow,” the young man said, shaking his head and leaving the knight to his brooding.

* * *

With Jorah finally free of some of the pain and discomfort, Daenerys had been content to deal with the business of ruling the Seven Kingdoms from a desk in the corner of the quarters she shared with her husband. Writing and signing a number of parchments ready to be sent across Westeros by raven, she kept an eye on Jorah from afar, looking for any sign of distress that would bring her to his side in an instant.

It did not escape her notice that Jorah had been particularly quiet after Samwell Tarly had left, and he too had looked less than pleased as he made his way from the room. The two men had been friends for many years and would no doubt heal their rift in the way they always had, with a tankard of ale and a sheepish look on their face.

While signing another letter, a scratching noise at the door caught Daenerys’ attention, followed by the muffled sound of a man shouting. Opening the door, she smiled at the huge hound that sat outside, its tongue hanging from the side of its mouth and its tail wagging happily.

“Sabre, come back here!” A balding, heavyset man barked as he caught up with the animal. Realising his dog had disturbed Daenerys, the man removed his fur hat and cast his eyes to the ground. “A thousand apologies, Your Grace,” he said, bowing slightly before making a grab for the large dog. “Please forgive the intrusion.”

Daenerys smiled, recognising the bloodhound and its master immediately. Robben was the gamekeeper of Bear Island and she and Jorah would often greet the greying old man and his faithful dog when they took their daily walk around the island. Despite visiting several times, Jorah always seemed to have a new sight to show her that would invariably take her breath away. What Bear Island lacked in produce and wealth, it more than made up for it with its stunning scenery and natural beauty.

“There is no need to apologise, Robben,” Daenerys replied, patting the dog on its head as it sat outside the door to her quarters.

“Sabre must have sneaked off while my back was turned,” the gamekeeper said, still looking apologetic. “He knows he’s not allowed within the keep. I’ll make sure he learns his lesson and that he won’t disturb you and m’lord again.”

Daenerys wasn’t sure she liked the sound of Robben taking his faithful companion to task. “Please do not punish him on our account, he is merely doing what comes naturally to him.”

Robben twisted the hat in his hands. “I think the beast has been wondering where m’lord has been these past few days. Sabre is always pleased to see m’lord when you visit the island.”

Daenerys smiled at the image of Jorah and Sabre greeting one another whenever their paths crossed. Despite the dog’s imposing size, its nature was benign, especially when it came to Jorah.

It was clear from the moment that her dragons were born that Jorah had a natural affinity with animals and beasts and that many gravitated toward him in his presence. Jorah’s calm and gentle manner could soothe even the fiercest of beasts it seemed.

Jorah would always greet the large dog by kneeling and allowing Sabre to rest his front paws on his shoulders, its tongue lolling and tail wagging happily as Jorah rubbed his hands over the beast’s fur. The two of them made quite a pair, but never more so than when Jorah made the mistake of throwing a large stick for the dog to chase and then had to spend several minutes repeating the same motion until Sabre could be convinced to leave the Lord of Bear Island and his wife in peace. Jorah gave her a sheepish look which she had returned with a soft kiss to his lips, before wrapping herself in the fur scarf her husband wore until they were entwined with each other, ignoring the sound of the world around them as they lost themselves in the deepening kiss.

Robben pulling on Sabre’s leash brought Daenerys back to the present with a jolt.

“Come on, beast,” the old man said, pulling on the leash and earning a whine from the dog.

Sabre refused to move, his claws digging into the ground as he continued to whimper and cry, looking at Daenerys hopefully.

“Robben,” Daenerys said, taking pity on the gamekeeper and his recalcitrant pet. “I am sure Jorah would be happy to spend some time with Sabre,” she continued, reaching out and taking the dog’s leash from its owner. “I will have someone return him to you later.”

Robben looked uncertain as he twisted his hat in his hands again. “That would be most kind, but I wouldn’t want to trouble you or m’lord.”

Daenerys smiled at him. “It is no imposition. I am sure Jorah is quickly tiring of my company anyway.”

The old gamekeeper considered her words for a couple of moments, scratching at the back of his head as he replied. “If you are sure that it is no trouble, Your Grace.”

Robben took several steps backwards before making his way from the doorstep, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about his faithful companion, who barked happily as Daenerys guided him into the room.

Sabre went to Jorah’s bedside immediately, lifting the knight’s limp right hand with his head and whining softly. Still asleep, Jorah responded by lifting his hand and caressing the dog’s snout, earning several licks from Sabre in return.

Seemingly satisfied that he’d greeted the human sufficiently, Sabre made himself comfortable laying by the injured man’s bedside and resting his large head on his front paws, content to watch over Jorah for the time being.

Daenerys returned to the desk and picked up another scroll, ready to send a reply back to Ser Davos who was overseeing matters in King’s Landing during her absence. Hours must have passed as Daenerys lost herself in the paperwork before her, confident that Sabre would alert her to any movement or signs of pain from Jorah.

The knock at the door took her by surprise. Putting down the parchment she was reading, Daenerys called out, beckoning her visitor to enter. 

Missandei stood nervously at the threshold. “I’m sorry to disturb you, You Grace,” her eyes falling on the large dog that lay at the side of the bed, the beast snoring softly in its sleep. “Lady Jorelle is in a most distressed state about what has happened to Ser Jorah. I have tried to reassure her, but I fear she may need to hear it from you.”

Despite Jorah’s current predicament, Daenerys knew that the young girl was not to blame for what had happened. Perhaps she had been remiss in not speaking to the girl before now, but her mind had been consumed with thoughts of Jorah and his needs, there had simply been no room for anyone or anything else.

“Then let us remedy that,” Daenerys said, making her way over to Sabre to pat him on the head. “Please look after him,” she said to the dog before following Missandei out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Sabre’s presence had only ever intended to be for one night and yet several days later, the huge hairy hound was sitting happily by Jorah’s side as he and Daenerys ate their evening meal in the great hall of the keep.

Having spent the first night by Jorah’s bedside, Sabre refused to move the next morning when Sam sat Jorah up in bed and helped him take the first few shaky steps around his quarters. What neither man expected was for Sabre to move in step with Jorah, placing his head by the knight’s hand and sitting patiently next to him each time Jorah stopped to wince or take a breath to keep the pain from his injured back at bay.

As the days passed and Jorah’s strength returned, Sabre would move at the same pace as him, guiding him around not only his quarters, but also around the keep when Daenerys had finally encouraged him to leave their room. Sabre had become his eyes and was adept at nudging his new master around obstacles that might have otherwise tripped him or caused him harm.

Although having the hound around was a huge benefit, Jorah couldn’t help but feel guilty that Robben was left without his faithful companion. The gamekeeper would hear nothing of it though and insisted that his dog stay with the Lord of Bear Island for as long as both of them liked.

“You shouldn’t keep feeding him scraps from the table, Jorah,” Daenerys softly chided as her husband felt for another piece of meat on his plate before dropping it to the ground for Sabre to gobble nosily.

“The poor beast has worked night and day trying to keep me out of trouble,” Jorah replied. “The least I can do is feed him a decent meal or two.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes and shook her head, despite the fact that Jorah was still unable to see anything but darkness. As Sam encouraged him out of his sickbed and the pain began to abate and the strength to his muscles returned, Jorah’s mood lightened considerably and yet the loss of his sight still hung over them darkly like a spectre.

After days of frustration and more than a few tears from both of them, Jorah was beginning to adapt to his new way of life and while he was by no means happy about it, he had at least begun to accept that it did not change his worth to the people who loved him. 

Having Sabre by his side had been an unexpected but welcome bonus, with the dog never failing to lift Jorah’s mood when needed. The faithful old beast seemed to pick up on Jorah’s low mood and would sit patiently with the old knight as he brooded, laying his head in the man’s lap and licking his hand occasionally.

Today was the first time that Jorah ventured outside of the keep since the accident several days ago and he was glad that he didn’t have to see the look of pity on people’s faces as he, Daenerys and Sabre took a walk down to one of the crystal clear blue waterfalls that Bear Island was known for. With his wife on one side and Sabre on the other, Jorah was confident that between them they would guide him away from any dangers as they made their way there.

The fresh air was a welcome change but it also tired Jorah more than he realised, a fact that Daenerys was only too quick to pick up on as they finished the last of their meal and their goblets of wine. Now that he had sat down, the muscles in Jorah's back also began to protest at the effort of keeping him upright for most of the day.

“Come, Jorah,” Daenerys said, rising from her chair to walk to his side. “Let us retire for the evening,” she said, placing a hand on his arm.

He nodded, running a hand over his face before finding his way to his feet. “I must be getting old,” he grumbled, one handgoing to his back as he massaged the sore muscles. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a Dothraki horde.”

Looping her arm through her husband’s Daenerys guided them back to their quarters with Sabre following on the knight’s opposite side.

“Sam said you would probably feel sore,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “He’s left something that might help with that.”

Jorah frowned, he was not a fan of some of the methods that Sam had previously employed in trying to get him back on his feet.

“Then let us hope it is more pleasant than his bedside manner or the herbal potions he insists I keep drinking,” Jorah growled. “I swear he’s trying to poison me.”

Daenerys smirked. “Perhaps you should be a better patient then. You’ve given the poor man more than a few grey hairs.”

Jorah seemed to consider her words as they finally reached the door to their quarters. “I don’t enjoy being coddled, especially by another man,” Jorah replied, a rueful look on his face.

“Would Ser be more amenable to his lady wife coddling him this evening?” Daenerys asked, leading her husband through the door and beginning to unbutton his tunic. Despite being able to do it himself, Jorah felt so weary that he let her carry on disrobing him, unaware that she had already sent word to Missandei to have a bath drawn for the both of them. Wordlessly and with complete trust in the woman he loved, Jorah allowed himself to be led to the large metal tub, smiling as he felt the water change when Daenerys joined him several moments later.

“Sam has given me some oils to put in the water,” Daenerys said, uncorking a small bottle and pouring some of the liquid into the bath water, moving it around with her other hand.

Jorah hummed in response as he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

“Would you allow me to wash you, Ser?” Daenerys asked, picking up the soft sponge and dipping it into the water. The question was redundant since she knew that Jorah would allow her to do as she pleased, still, he had his pride and Daenerys was fully aware at how much of a beating that had taken recently.

Jorah nodded his head, his eyes firmly closed as he sank further into the water, allowing Daenerys the opportunity to run her hands across his body, making sure that no part of him remained unwashed or untouched before seeing to her own needs. She was content to lay on the opposite side, watching the tension and pain drain from her lover’s face as the oils continued to do their work in easing the pain in Jorah’s overworked and tired muscles.

She smiled to herself as Jorah swallowed deeply and licked his lips when she placed a soft kiss on both of his shoulders before making her way from his throat to his cheek and then his lips as his eyes remained closed.

As much as she hated to wake him, Daenerys could feel the water cooling quickly and although the fire in the hearth kept the room warm, the last thing Jorah would need was to catch a chill so quickly after getting back on his feet.

Daenerys leaned into him, placing a kiss on his lips. “Jorah, it is time for us to retire to bed, I think.”

One eye crept open. “Just a few more minutes,” he said sleepily.

Daenerys would not be deterred from her task. “Ser, if you do not climb out of this bath, I shall have Sabre join you in it,” she threatened, although part of her worried that her husband would enjoy it, having seen the pair of them glued to one another’s side recently.

Jorah nodded before letting out a yawn and allowing Daenerys to guide him to his feet and away from the metal tub. He soon found himself being dried off with a warm towel as he sat on their bed, the sensations of Daenerys patting his body dry doing nothing for his ability to stay awake.

Jorah opened his eyes when he felt his wife’s presence in his lap as she ran the towel through his hair. She was close enough for him to smell her skin and despite his fatigue, he reached for her and kissed her deeply, her hands running through his still-damp hair as his found their way to her hips. Despite the loss of his sight, Jorah’s hands knew the plains of her body so well that he would always find those special places that made Daenerys feel so alive when he touched her.

It was the first time that they touched each other like this since the accident and Daenerys found herself getting lost in the feel of being in her husband’s arms. Unlike any other man she had known, Jorah worshipped her body and knew exactly what to do to make her come undone. Never once had he failed to bring her to her peak.

Daenerys broke away reluctantly. “Jorah, we are meant to be loosening your muscles, not making them stiffer,” she said, feeling his manhood hardening at the sensual contact between them.

He ignored her protests, continuing to run his hands over her body. “I’m sure we can remedy that,” he replied as one of his hands ghosted across her breast.

Climbing off his lap, Daenerys guided her husband to lay on his front as she grabbed another bottle, rubbing it on her hands before placing them on his back.

“Sam says this oil is infused with lavender and that it will help ease your muscles,” she said, running her hands up and down his broad back, her fingers working at the aching muscles. 

Jorah had been ashamed to stand before her undressed when first consummating their relationship, fearing that the scars that littered his body would repulse her. She had assured him that his scars were a mark of his devotion to her and the immense sacrifice he had made to continue to stand at her side when life had been determined to rip them apart.

“Sam says far too much,” Jorah grumbled sleepily, his head lying on his arms.

“I could have him come in and do this if you prefer?” Daenerys offered slyly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

She smiled, continuing to run her hands over her husband’s back, hearing his soft ‘you wouldn’t dare’ as his body relaxed further into the bed.

“And I also expect you to return the favour, Ser,” she whispered in his ear as her hands found the top of his shoulders. “I am a Khaleesi and Khaleesi’s do not work for free.”

Jorah’s only response was a muffled grunt as his body relaxed completely and he fell into a deep sleep.

Happy that Jorah was sound asleep after she had tended to his aching muscles, Daenerys climbed into bed beside him and was content to watch over him until sleep took her too.

* * *

The sound of birds chirping in the trees surrounding the keep woke Daenerys the next morning. 

With her eyes still half closed, Daenerys reached out for her husband, coming fully awake when she realised the bed was empty.

In a panic, she grabbed her robe and climbed from the bed quickly, searching the room for any sign of Jorah or Sabre. Fear coursed through her veins as her mind ran through possible reasons why Jorah was not still in bed beside her. Had someone come for him in the middle of the night and taken him hostage?

It seemed unlikely given the guards on their door and the large hound that followed Jorah everywhere, but the thought crossed her mind all the same.

She let out a sigh of relief as she heard Jorah talking softly to the dog sitting by his side in the small solar overlooking the lake, Sabre’s tail wagging noisily against the floor.

Daenerys made her way over to the large wooden chair her husband sat in, the sun shining on his face as Sabre let out a soft bark at her presence.

“I was worried something had happened to you,” Daenerys said, placing a hand on Jorah’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You looked so peaceful this morning, I didn’t want to wake you.”

They had been careful to avoid the use of words such as ‘seeing’ or ‘looking’ since Jorah had lost his sight. It had been difficult at first but worse when such careless words reminded the man she loved that he could no longer see anything. Jorah would not use such words unless…

Unless…

“Jorah?” Daenerys asked hopefully, her hand gently raising his chin so she could look him in the eye. Instead of his sightless gaze, Jorah’s achingly blue eyes focused on her face before returning to the window and the breath-taking scenery beyond.

“The sunrise over the island is so beautiful,” he said, smiling in the way that made Daenerys fall a little more in love with him each time he graced her with it. “I thought I might never see another.” He let out a shaky sigh, covering the hand on his shoulder with one of his own before looking at her again. “I tried so hard to recreate it in my mind, but every day it grew a little fainter…the colours fading like someone had washed them out.”

Daenerys said nothing, allowing Jorah to continue if he wanted to. “I could have lived with that,” he said softly. “If the gods saw fit to punish me…I would have accepted it and not said a word in complaint. To know that I might never see your face again though…it was breaking me, Daenerys. I tried - “

She cut him off with a kiss before placing her finger there and halting whatever else he was going to say.

“You are my strength as I am yours. Whatever this world chooses to throw at us we will remain unburned and unbroken because we have each other. The gods can do as they see fit but they will never tear us apart, not even in death. There will never be a world where I don’t need you by my side, Jorah Mormont.”

“Even if I were broken?”

She smiled and kissed him once more. “With time and love, even broken things can be mended, Ser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I will clean your entire residence in exchange for Nurse!Dany taking care of Jorah. Pretty please with a cherry on top. I'll include a life-time subscription free of charge if you can incorporate a bath and a lot (and I mean 20 molten lava cakes worth) of sensuality. Post-relationship preferred, maybe a bit after she conquers King's Landing or they're chilling somewhere on Bear Island. I'll leave the rest up to you. Go cray cray, my dude.
> 
> Added extras:
> 
> Scarf-sharing.  
> Forehead boops.  
> Soft kissies.  
> Canoodling.  
> Noze nuzzles.  
> Hair play.  
> #OGTeamTarg - Missandei & Grey Worm.  
> Jorah & Missandei SOFT FRANDSHIP.  
> Dany & Missandei girl talk.  
> BASHFUL JORAH.  
> Jorleesi more like FLIRTEESI.  
> yeah flirty Jorleesi is cool.


End file.
